


人(Hito)

by The_8th_Arrow



Series: Prompts, Dialogues and Oneshots [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Humor, Laundry, M/M, Oh Vitya my son, boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_8th_Arrow/pseuds/The_8th_Arrow
Summary: Hiragana:人Romaji:HitoEnglish:ManMeaning:man; person; people; human being; Homo sapiensHe did not know if his soulmate wrote a letter or drew an image. The only clue he got was that it looked like a hanger or a bent clothes clip but it looked more like a hanger.Victor tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in confusion.Was his soulmate trying to tell him to do laundry?





	人(Hito)

**Author's Note:**

> It's hard to deal with writer's block but I am glad my drafts are glaring at me and silently telling me to GET ON WITH IT.  
> *hugs my draft folder*

It started on a cold November afternoon just as he was about to put on his gloves before training. There was a mark on the palm of his hand he did not know he made. It’s probably leftover ink that hadn’t dried back at school and he unknowingly placed his hand there. The lines were thick and it did not smudge. It might be paint. He could not remember placing his hand on anything during the day.

Unless…

Victor gasped as he watched in rapt fascination as another separate image was being drawn on his palm and it ended with a bold dot. On his skin was a thick drawing of a bent clothes' clip or a hanger followed by a messy question mark symbol. Ah, it looked more like a hanger with a question mark but the question mark was starting to smudge on its own until it’s only the hanger that was left.

He had heard about this: soulmates writing to each other using their skin. He had heard classmates having marks of ink on their skin, had seen his Mama giggling over nothing when she glanced towards her arm and it turned out Papa had written another sappy yucky message for her during office boredom.

He wondered then what it would be like to have his soulmate write to him. Thought about what they would write to each other. Even when they were apart, they could still talk to each other without hassle. He could ask what his soulmate likes. Did they like math? He hated math. He preferred English but he liked his Math teacher than his English teacher because she was a nice lady. What sport did they like? Did they like soccer? Basketball or ballet? Maybe, skating? Victor hoped they like skating because that is what Victor loves and they would have lots to talk about their favorite sport.

 

 

As much as he was excited about the event, it was turning to be weirder than he thought.

The more he looked at the ink, the more confused he was becoming. He did not know if his soulmate wrote a letter or drew an image. The only clue he got was that it looked like a hanger or a bent clothes clip but it looked more like a hanger.

Maybe? Just, maybe.

Victor tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in confusion.

Was his soulmate trying to tell him to do laundry?

He looked at himself and started smelling through the shirt he wore. First, his shoulder and then, the hem. He debated on smelling his tights but no, thanks.

Huh.

He didn't think he smelled that bad. Did his soulmate know what he smelled like right now? Was that also an effect of their bond?

“Yakov?” Victor called his coach as soon as he stepped on the ice and to his side. “Do I smell?”

The reaction he got was a mixed one. He could not tell whether the man was surprised, livid, exasperated, or attacked. He probably shed a few more strands of hair for some reason.

Nevertheless, Victor had a plan in mind now. Something he drew while in the middle of practicing his axels.

 

 

“Vitenka? Dear?” His mother called him from the hallway, a hand covering her amused smile when she caught him tiptoeing down the stairs with a heavy pile in his arms. “Where are you going with those clothes?”

Victor, age nine and a ball of energy, grinned sheepishly and adjusted the bundle of clothes in his arms so none of them would fall (Little did he know he left a small trail of shirts and socks all the way from his bedroom).

“To the laundry.”

“Laundry? Have you got no more clothes?” The woman wondered and put a finger on her lips in thought. She remembered ironing a few more of her son’s practice shirts and leggings last night but she wasn’t aware that his cabinet was lacking fresh clothes.

The boy glanced up toward his bedroom and spoke to his mother with a little agitation from his tone. “I have but I need more fresh ‘uns.”

“I see.” His mother hummed, thoughtful, before smiling at her son. “Then, let me wash those for you so you can do your homework –”

“No!” Victor exclaimed, yanking his arms full of clothes away so his mother could not reach for them. The woman barely contained her gasp at the display although it was more in amusement rather than disbelief. “I mean… I can do it. I can wash them. Besides, I did my homework already…”

A splash of pink dusted on Victor’s cheeks as he nearly buried his face in embarrassment on the pile of clothes he was carrying.

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course, you can wash your clothes! Do you want Mama to help you?”

Victor, who wanted to make his soulmate proud because he did his chores all on his own, declined the offer with a shake of his head but as soon as he saw the daunting task of pushing the proper button in order for the washing machine to whir to life, he eventually called for his mother who was watching the entire scene chuckling behind the door frame.

Sometime in the future tucked among the hundred photos of Victor’s baby book, there would be a single picture of a nine-year-old Victor whose back was to the camera as he sorted out his clothes and underwear into the washing machine while tiptoed up on a stool for added height.

Eventually, he told his mother about his soulmate making contact with him for the first time. She had this brilliant idea of replying to them with a marker. Even if they don’t know what the caricature means, they can reply to it by adding a little element to it.

“So, when your soulmate asks if you did your laundry, they will know you did it.” His mother passed him the marker and let Victor draw the rest.

Oh, he was so proud of his accomplishments today.

 

 

_Nearly halfway across the globe, six-year-old Yuuri Katsuki squeaked in delight as he saw the written character on his arm just next to where he had written his first ever message to his soulmate. His soulmate replied to him in a very similar albeit wiggly handwriting the very same character of ‘man’ in hiragana. To confirm Yuuri’s suspicion, his soulmate added not one but two exclamation points._

_Yuuri ran across the hallways to find his sister so he could show her proof that his soulmate is_ not _an alien._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Vitya. Dear Vitya. Innocent little Vitya.


End file.
